An invasion of Cap-Haitien fails and fifty seven hostages are shot

May was the season for these attempts, because the coffee and sugar harvests were over, the work had stopped and money was short. On 20 May 1968 two aircraft from the Bahamas landed at Cap-Haitien and put ashore about thirty five men in camouflage suits with a label sewn into them reading Big Game, styled by Broadway. A leaflet raid on Port-au-Prince that morning had failed because nobody cut the string on the bundles before dropping them. One aircraft left to fetch reinforcements and never came back, the pilot having lost his nerve. The follow up force of nearly a hundred men with heavy weapons stayed in the Bahamas because their ship was allowed to sink. Duvalier's answer in the capital was to execute hostages at Fort Dimanche, fifty seven of them by the exiles' count, and to keep his ministers sleeping on mattresses in the palace under guard. The coastguard shelled the rebels out of the Cap after two days.

The film, shot in Dahomey after the director toured the Caribbean and West Africa looking for a country that could stand in for Haiti, was released late in 1967 with Greene's own screenplay. On 1 November 1967 the Haitian embassy in Washington issued a long statement attacking it on the government's black and red letterhead, which Diederich says may be the first time an embassy has officially protested against a movie. An American newspaper devoted an editorial to the comedy of the protest at the end of that month. Diederich adds a coda Duvalier is likely to have enjoyed. Four weeks after the film opened, on Christmas Day 1967, President Soglo of Dahomey was removed by his own subordinates, and while there were ordinary explanations there were also those who blamed the long reach of Papa Doc in revenge for the filming. Greene said Vodou deserved some credit.

Charles Gabriel Seligman published The Races of Africa in 1930. Its organising claim was the Hamitic hypothesis, which held that any large achievement in sub Saharan Africa had been the work of lighter skinned invaders arriving from the north. Ehret describes the book as a racist tract wearing the clothes of scholarship. Oxford University Press and the International African Institute reissued it in 1957 and again in 1967, by which point no one defending it could claim ignorance. It remains available for sale. The consequences reached well beyond libraries. Belgian administrators in Rwanda used the same racial ladder to sort Tutsi above Hutu, issued identity cards on that basis, and hardened categories that had been fluid into fixed racial facts. The propaganda of the 1994 genocide, which described Tutsi as foreign invaders to be driven out, drew on that scheme. A university press had supplied the authority. I keep this on a Haitian timeline because the habit of crediting African achievement to somebody else is the habit that turned Saint Domingue into a French accomplishment.

In 1969 the International Monetary Fund estimated that the annual income of the Regie du Tabac et Allumettes came to about 50 million gourdes. In 2019 money that is roughly 68 million United States dollars, and at the time it stood at approximately 40 percent of Haiti's entire national budget. The Regie held monopolies on the distribution of cement and of dozens of other goods, among them flour, tomato paste, soap and beer, and it added a commission to each unit sold. Almost none of that revenue entered the public budget or paid for anything public. It went into personal accounts held by members of the Duvalier family, and bought cars, villas and shopping trips abroad. An American diplomat called the office an untouchable instrument of personalist rule. Its books were among the closest guarded secrets of the regime, so no full accounting of what passed through it exists.